Turner took a moment, then nodded. ‘Fine. They were here.’

‘What time.’

‘Seven-thirty ’til nine.’

He was about to ask for Turner’s address and phone number. But then he had a better idea.

‘OK. Why don’t you read up on Data Protection? I’ll be wanting a full list. You’re also a member of the English Patriot League, correct? I’ll need a list of League members too, Data Protection permitting.’

With that he pulled open the door and threw himself out into the refreshingly chill morning air.

‘Prick!’ he hissed as his fingers jabbed the screen of his phone.

‘Rita? It’s me. You up at the crime scene? I’ll see you there in a few minutes. Oh, and guess who I just bumped into? The Professor himself, Leo Turner. Can you get someone from Kirklees to email me his contact details, plus anything of interest about him? He’s kicking up a legal fuss about access to the group info.’ He stopped, listening incredulously to Rita’s reply. ‘A lawyer? Shit.’

He ended the call and tried to put Turner out of his mind as he walked back to his car. On the way he noticed a bike chained to a drainpipe at the corner of the building. Judging by the average age and condition of the library users today, it must have belonged to the uncooperative librarian.

‘Oh, I bet he bloody loves bragging about how he never pollutes the environment!’ he chuntered as he got his car keys out.

16

When he arrived, Rita was poking around in the trees close to where the burnt-out Toyota had been found. Not far off was the Land Rover, driver’s door swinging open in the wind, keys still in the ignition.

‘They’ll nick your motor!’ he shouted across to her as he parked and got out.

‘They’ll friggin’ try,’ she said without turning around. ‘Owt up at the library?’

‘Few people of interest. Some of ’em were playing curling on the carpet!’

‘Yeah, I’ve heard of that,’ she said, now turning to look at him. ‘Sounds fun! Leo Turner?’

‘Librarian wasn’t happy about him putting up his Lobster Pot posters. Seems like a crank to me. Anyway, I got the email with his info. Thanks for that. One thing: he forgot to mention he was a lawyer when I spoke to him. Strange, eh?’

‘They’re all bloody strange in the League. Anyway, are you lot all done here?’

He sensed the qualified accusation. You lot?

‘You’ve seen the SOC report?’ he said. ‘There’s nothing obvious with the tyre tracks. Motor comes in. Straight into this corner. There wasn’t much in the way of forensics.’

‘He was in the passenger footwell. No one bothered to shift him into the driver’s seat, to make it look like an accident. Or suicide.’